


A World Without Heroes

by SecondToTheRight



Series: Overwatch Speed Prompts [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Amelie didn't deserve this, Psychological Torture, neural reconditioning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 08:16:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7500879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecondToTheRight/pseuds/SecondToTheRight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Overwatch was a lie. It's heroes are frauds. Talon does not need to convince Widowmaker of this. She already knows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A World Without Heroes

**Author's Note:**

> This was a speed prompt I gave to myself, so expect typos and non-beta embarrassment.
> 
> Written in 45 minutes.

Widowmaker was impressed.

For someone so weak and unassuming, she had lasted longer than expected. The screams had faded, turned into feeble whimpers, the whir of the machines humming down. 

Widowmaker stared at the girl’s face, searching. Had they finally done it? Or had they pushed too far? Would this be a complete waste?

The girl’s lips started moving silently. Widowmaker strained to hear her words. 

“ _ Ils vont venir. _ ”

Widowmaker frowned.

The girl truly was pathetic. Her blind hope was unrelenting, therefore idiotic. Despite the blocks of metal over her eyes, tears still managed to stream down her cheeks. 

“Overwatch will come.”

No, they won’t.

The machines started booting up, the next session about to begin. The girl’s chest rose and fell sharply, her breath hitching, panic growing.

“No, please!” the girl began. “No more, please.  _ Arrêtez _ .”

Her voice cracked, getting progressively louder. Her arms started fighting against their restraints. She seemed to ignore the already broken skin from previous fruitless attempts. Numb to it.

Good.

It was only a matter of time now. 

Widowmaker stood emotionless, letting the girl’s screams, her pain, fill her and the room.

 

* * *

 

 

The girl would stare at her sometimes. In the brief moments they had alone. Widowmaker would never admit it, but her eyes unnerved her. They weren’t wild and hostile, or filled with fight. They were hopeful. Warm.

The girl looked at her like she was her protector, her hero.

When they came to take her back to the room, she would hide behind Widowmaker, curl up at her feet. The men would pick her up from the floor and Widowmaker would watch, see what she would do. 

The first couple weeks, the girl would fight, using anything she had at her disposal. Her nails, her teeth. It was entertaining for Widowmaker. 

The girl was unexpectedly creative. 

But as the weeks dragged, that fire disappeared. Now, the girl would just stare at her, as if she was expecting  _ her  _ to do something. 

She wouldn’t.

Widowmaker would just follow her and the men. Instead of hating her for her inaction, however, the girl would seem grateful for the company. 

Maybe she really had gone mad.

Because Widowmaker wouldn’t save her. No one would.

Heroes didn’t exist.

When the girl cried out for Overwatch, for Captain Ana, Commander Morrison, sweet Angela. Widowmaker’s fists would clench in frustration. She wanted to shake the girl, tell her to top resisting. To give up on this fantasy. If heroes really existed, they would hear her calls.

Overwatch was a lie.

They weren’t heroes and neither was she.

 

* * *

 

When the day finally came, Widowmaker was watching the girl squirm in silence. With each jolt from the wires attached to her, she fidgeted feverishly.

“Just stop,  _ petite sotte _ .” 

Widowmaker was surprised by the thickness of her own voice. It also made the girl pause. Despite the headgear obstructing her vision, her head turned to Widowmaker with pinpoint accuracy.

“Please,” the girl whispered.

Widowmaker knew that under those wires, the girl was giving her that look again.

“Please don’t hurt him. Don’t hurt my Gerard.”

Widowmaker pushed off the wall she was leaning against and closed the distance between them.

“Please,” the girl begged.

Widowmaker tenderly wiped the endless trail of tears. 

“Alright,” Widowmaker whispered soothingly back.

The girl slumped to the side of her seat after that, a warm smile on her face.

Widowmaker had lied. 

The world had no heroes, but she would end this girl’s suffering.

Amélie had fought long enough.

Widowmaker would make sure she never had to fight again. 


End file.
